


My Angel

by a_phantom_rose



Category: Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_phantom_rose/pseuds/a_phantom_rose
Summary: Christine Daae is a chorus girl at the Opera Populaire, though she's boosted to overnight stardom due to her mysterious music tutor. Will she fall for him, or for an old friend who shows up after years away?Based off of the 2004 film. All rights go to those who made the film!
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Comments: 1





	1. Angel of Music

"Brava... brava... bravissima..." The gentle tenor haunted me, tempting me to find the source of the voice. I rose from my place in the small chapel, looking around the room with wide eyes.

"Christine, Christine..." I heard Meg singing from a distance. An even more faint " _Christine_ " echoed hers, the same gentle tenor. 

"Where in the world have you been hiding? Really you were perfect," Meg sang as she found me. "I only wish I knew your secret, who is your great tutor?" 

"Meg... When your mother brought me here to live, whenever I would come here alone to light a candle for my father, a voice from above... And in my dreams, he was always there. You see, when my father lay dying, he told me I would be protected by an angel, an angel of music!" I whispered excitedly to Meg. 

"Christine, do you believe? Do you think the spirit of your father is coaching you?" Meg asked gently, and I could see in her eyes that she didn't completely believe me.

"Who else, Meg? Who...?" I asked, overcome with sorrow once more.

"Father once spoke of an angel; I used to dream he'd appear," I sang quietly. "Now as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's here... Here in this room he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding." I rose from the floor, gazing around the chapel with wonder in my eyes. "Somehow I know he's always with me, he the unseen genius," I sang out, my voice growing in confidence, knowing he was indeed there with me, though unseen.

"Christine, you must have been dreaming; stories like this can't come true. Christine, you're talking in riddles, and it's not like you!" Meg exclaimed, worry coming across her face. 

Chills ran down my spine as I hardly heard her, feeling an irresistible pull to the lower levels of the opera house. "Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!" I sang out louder, seeking my mysterious angel. "Angel of music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!" Meg joined me, our voices combining into a beautiful harmony. 

Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks, feeling faint. "He's with me, even now," I sang quietly, almost a murmur, but knowing that my words were right.

"Your hands are cold," Meg sang, trying to get some warmth back into my frigid hands but to no avail.

"All around me," I continued, shivering weakly.

"Your face, Christine, it's white," Meg sang out of concern, cupping my face gently. 

"It frightens me..." I finished, trailing off into nothingness, my voice shaking.

"Don't be frightened," Meg comforted me, doing the best she could to ensure I was safe. More chills ran down my spine, and Meg tugged me back into the warmth of my dressing room, through the overwhelming crowd, handing me off to her mother at some point.

~~~

I sat at the vanity, taking out my hairpins methodically, still in shock at the success of my performance that night. I had sang the arias perfectly, never missing a single note or going flat. I hummed a few bars to myself, looking at the rose tied with a black ribbon, losing myself in thought.

"Little Lotte let her mind wander," I heard a familiar yet odd voice murmur. I sat up a little straighter, turning to look at who had come through the door. "Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins, or of shoes?" he continued as he came over to me, and the recognition slammed into me.

"Raoul," I said sweetly, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face.

"Or of riddles, or of frocks," Raoul continued, and I smiled. "Those picnics in the attic," I murmured fondly. "Or of chocolates," Raoul smiled, coming closer still.

"Father playing the violin," I whispered.

"As we read to each other dark stories of the North," Raoul knelt in front of me, and I leaned closer to him.

"No, what I love best, Lottie said, is when I'm asleep in my bed," I whispered, then began to sing. "And the angel of music sings songs in my head, the angel of music sings songs in my head..."

Raoul chuckled as he looked up at me, both of us blissfully overjoyed at seeing each other again. He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me as he murmured into my shoulder, "You sang like an angel tonight."

"Father said, 'When I'm in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.' Well, Father is dead, Raoul," I whispered, feeling the familiar pang in my chest at the thought of my dear father no longer being here with me, playing his violin. "And I have been visited by the angel of music!" I exclaimed softly, expecting Raoul to share in my joy. 

"Oh, no doubt of it," Raoul said confidently, and I felt my heart flutter a little inside of my chest. His next words crushed that little butterfly, though. "And now, we go to supper," he said, somewhat dismissively, rising and going back towards the door.

"No, Raoul," I cried out quietly. He turned back and stopped, shocked by my saying no. "The angel of music is very strict!" I warned him.

"Well I shan't keep you up late!" he said cockily, letting out a bemused harrumph. 

"Raoul, no!" I protested, stronger this time. 

He chuckled incredulously, gesturing to the door. "You must change! I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte," he chuckled, and I sensed that this was not going to end well. 

"No, Raoul, wait!" I cried, rising from my chair, but he was already out the door.

Who knew how the angel of music would take this?


	2. The Mirror

I came out from behind the dressing screen, tying my robe around me as I let out a small sigh. Around the room, the candles blew out, and I startled slightly, looking around cautiously. The room was illuminated only by the light of the moon, and a deep chill ran down my spine. Something called me over to the mirror, and I approached it carefully, suddenly convinced there was something on the other side.

'What else would be on the side of the mirror but the wall?' I thought to myself, shaking my head slightly. I started towards the door to the dressing room, determined to find Madame Giry. However, a haunting tenor soon stopped me in my tracks, my hand barely even touching the handle of the door.

"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory," he sang out, and I sensed the rising anger in him. "Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" he bellowed, and I turned reluctantly to face the mirror. 

"Angel, I hear you! Speak, I listen! Stay by my side, guide me," I sang meekly. "Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, master!" 

"Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror; I am there inside!" he sang, and I peered at the mirror, not seeing much of anything. 

Then, to my surprise, an outline began to appear... Soon, it fleshed out into a man, dressed in a black tuxedo and a white mask covering half his face. Completely entranced, I approached the mirror against my better judgement. "Angel of music, guide and guardian, bring to me your glory! Angel of music, hide no longer! Come to me, strange angel!" I sang out.

"I am your angel of music, come to me, angel of music..." he sang, reaching his hand out to me. I heard the faint rattling of the door handle, but was too far gone to bother going to see who it was. "I am your angel of music, come to me, angel of music," he repeated, and I reached out for his hand, trusting him completely. 

Somehow, the glass in the mirror was gone, and my chilly hand slid into his warm gloved one perfectly. 

I gazed up at him in awe, filled with an urge to sing as a pipe organ began to play from somewhere in the opera house. He led me down a narrow stone hallway lit by gently flickering candles, and I followed him, still under his spell. Soon, the song overfilled my throat, and I began to sing.

"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came," I started in my lower range, my voice a little husky and more mature-sounding than my mere nineteen years of age. "That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind..." I followed him down various corridors and a spiral staircase, no fear left in my body as I sang, sensing that he would keep me safe. 

"Sing once again with me our strange duet," he belted out in his beautiful tenor. As he led me down a small staircase, I could see a pure black horse waiting at the bottom. "My power over you grows stronger yet," he sang as he turned to face me, his piercing blue eyes gazing into my deep brown ones. 

I turned to look behind, suddenly convinced that something had touched my shoulder. "And though you turn from me to glance behind, the phantom of the opera is there, inside your mind!" He hoisted me up carefully onto the horse, leading it down a shallow staircase. As we reached the bottom, I could see a beautiful underground lake, along with a boat waiting at a small dock. 

He helped me off of the horse and into the boat, climbing in himself, full of grace and poise, not a flicker of movement wasted. He pushed a long oar into the water, and we were off across the lake. "Those who have seen your face draw back in fear," I sang out, the water and high stone ceiling offering wonderful acoustics. "I am the mask you wear," I sang as I turned to look at him.

"It's me they hear," he finished my sentence for me. 

""Your spirit and my voice, in one, combined... The phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind!" we sang together, our voices combining into a gorgeous harmony, more than perfect.

"He's there, the phantom of the opera," I continued, then went into a beautiful aria, my voice climbing higher and higher, the phantom encouraging me to sing. At some point, notes began to come out of my mouth that I didn't know I even had in me. He steered us through a small opening in the stone, guarded by a gate that rose for us. I gazed around with wide eyes, taking in the impressive architecture and many candles, some of them rising out of the water as he docked the boat gently. He swung his cape off, tossing it onto the ground without a care. 

"I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne," he sang seductively, roaming about his home, his eyes rarely leaving mine as I sat in the boat, completely in awe of his raw talent. "To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music, music... You have come here for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing for my music, my music..." he trailed off, his words hanging in the air between us.


	3. The Music of the Night

I gazed up at my phantom, absolutely spellbound by his heavenly voice. It was as though I couldn't move from my seat in the boat, as I was completely enraptured by his voice. His mood seemed to change, his eyes still locked on mine as he began to sing.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation," he began, his voice so soft and tender it brought tears to my eyes. "Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination," he continued, his voice growing stronger as he approached me carefully, slowly, as though not to startle me. "Silently the senses abandon their defences," his beautiful voice carried over the water as he reached his hand out to me. I rose from my seat, taking his hand gently as I stepped out, still gazing up at him with evident awe on my face. 

"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender," he sang as he led me slowly into his home, and I took in the gently flickering candles, the beautiful architecture, the impressive amount of music sheets scattered all over the place, no doubt penned by his own hand. 

"Turn your face away from the garish light of day," he caressed my cheek, gently guiding my face back to look at him. "Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night." I sensed a deep sorrow within him, masked by his cold exterior and nonchalant face. We passed a small miniature of the opera house, and on center stage was a tiny model of me, in my beautiful white gown I had worn when I sang "Think of Me". I gazed back up at the phantom, shivering slightly as he led me deeper still into his home. 

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams," he belted out, and I watched him with awe as thoughts of passion and roses with black ribbons and lips pressed against mine dashed across my mind, leaving an unmistakeable flush on my cheeks. "Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before! Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar..." he trailed into a beautiful, pure high note, and I closed my eyes, feeling as though I was about to lift off from the ground like a bird, my wings starting to spread in my mind.

"And you'll live as you've never lived before," he continued softly, and I opened my eyes again, still wholly enraptured by his pure voice. He gestured for me to come closer, and I obeyed him silently, taking his hand carefully. "Softly, deftly, music shall caress you," he continued on, leading me up to his massive organ, though I paid it little attention. "Hear it, feel it secretly possess you," he beckoned me closer still, and I leaned in slightly, our lips nearly meeting, completely enraptured by his passionate gaze. 

"Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness that you know you cannot fight; the darkness of the music of the night." He slowly pulled away from me, moving effortlessly across the ground, weaving between candlesticks. "Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world! Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before!" He belted out, still locking me in place with that passionate, fiery gaze. "Let your soul take you where you long to be!" He nearly roared, his voice ringing throughout the chamber. 

"Only then can you belong to me," he sang, his voice soft and gentle once again, coming down from the song's climax. He approached me once more, his hands reaching out to me and pulling me into him, my back pressed against his chest as his hands began to roam my body, those passionate thoughts enrapturing my mind once more. "Floating, falling, sweet intoxication," he sang, his voice full of passion and lust. "Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation," he sang as he gently guided my hand to his cheek, and I turned to look at him, our lips nearly touching once more. "Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write, the power of the music of the night," he sang, pulling away as he led me towards a curtain. I followed him meekly, not daring to take my eyes off of his for one moment. 

He pulled aside the curtain, and behind it was a figure... of me. The figure was wearing a white gown and veil, clearly meant to be a wedding dress. I collapsed almost immediately, hardly registering the gentle arms of the phantom, catching me and carrying me to his bed. "You alone can make my song take flight, help me make the music of the night..." I heard faintly, before succumbing to the darkness.

My dreams were full of roses and porcelain masks and black gloves, white wedding gowns and sheets of music and candles. I heard the tinkle of a music box in the distance, slowly waking and realising that it was actually next to the bed. I tugged on the rope near the bed, lifting the black curtain that I mused was likely for some privacy and seclusion. I rose from the bed slowly, gazing out at the lake as I sang. "I remember there was mist, swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake..." I sang as I approached the lake slowly, still feeling as though I was dreaming. "There were candles all around, and on the lake there was a boat!" I smiled as I saw that it had not been a dream; rather, it had all been real! There was the lake in front of me with the boat resting at the dock, and thousands of candles all around. "And in the boat there was a man," I trailed off into nothingness, turning to look at him. He was sitting at his organ, clearly deep in thought. 

"Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?" I sang as I walked over to him, caressing his cheek delicately as he closed his eyes, the temptation to take off the mask nearly overwhelming me. I considered it briefly, my fingers exploring the cool porcelain mask, curling around the edge instinctively. But then I felt the tension in his shoulders, noticed how his piercing blue eyes were staring up at me, and pulled my hands away from the mask. 'He'll show me what's beneath the mask in his own time,' I mused to myself, and moved behind him, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, his voice a little rough. I hummed a noncommittal response, and he chuckled. "It's half six; you slept through the night."

"Have you slept at all?" I asked him gently, suddenly noticing how exhausted he looked, the tension in his shoulders slowly dissipating as I massaged them gently.

"I had no need to," he murmured a moment after the question left my lips, hardly even giving my mind time to overthink and feel terrible. "I've been writing music all night." I smiled softly, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the pages and pages of music. 

"Would you play some for me?" I asked sweetly, pressing my cheek to his. He jolted slightly, a blush evident on his cheek that wasn't covered by his mask. He nodded quickly, then sifted through the pages of music until he found what he was looking for.

"I call this one 'Christine'," he murmured, then eased into a beautiful, slow melody. I slowly sat next to him, watching his hands play the piano like no other, reading the music along with him, eventually closing my eyes and listening to the lilting lullaby. I felt calm and at peace; the music soothed those deep cracks in my soul that hadn't seen the light of day since my father passed away. The lullaby was over far too soon, and I opened my eyes again, looking up at my phantom in awe.

"That was beautiful," I whispered, my hands reaching for the keys, itching to play the main line from the lullaby: an eighth note rest, eighth note A, eighth note A and B tied together, quarter note C sharp tied to sixteenth note C sharp and D, tied to eighth note C sharp, and ending on half note B. I eventually began to play a song of my own, letting my soul lead my hands. The song spoke of darkness and light blending together, passion and yet a deep yearning to just be loved. I eventually finished, coming back to myself.

"Christine, I..." the phantom trailed off, tears evident in his brilliant blue eyes. I looked at him expectantly, suddenly a little choked up myself.

"Yes...?" I trailed off, suddenly realising I didn't know his name. "What is your name, my angel? I've only ever known you as my angel of music, my tutor, my phantom."

"My name is Erik," he murmured, caressing my cheek so tenderly I felt as though I would break. "Erik Destler."

"Erik," I breathed, barely able to focus on him as I was overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him. He leaned in slowly, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment our lips met. 

Instead, he pressed his lips to my cheek. "My dear Christine," he murmured, and I opened my eyes, not bothering to hide the disappointment on my face. "You need to get ready for your lesson, my songbird." With that, he disappeared into another small alcove, leaving me alone to get ready.


	4. See the Light of Day

I sighed as I went back to the bed I had slept in the previous night, tugging the rope to close the curtain behind me, assuming that there were dresses in the wardrobe that was tucked into the wall. I opened the impressively sculpted doors and gasped at the sight inside. There were beautiful dresses, all made of fine silks and lace, all undoubtedly in my size. My mind wandered back to the previous night, and the sight of that model of me, dressed in a voluminous white gown, clearly meant to be a wedding dress. I suppose anybody else would have been disgusted, but I was merely intrigued. I knew that the phantom--that Erik--had always been my tutor, since I could remember. I had never once stopped to think of how deep his affections may run for me...

I shook my head and sifted through the gowns. There was one that was a delicate blush shade, with a gathered bustle adorned with flowers, likely meant for a party or gala. There was one that was a gorgeous blue silk brocade, and another that was a deep forest green. Behind those were a demure yet radiant yellow gown, and another that was a light cream, nearly white. I chose the cream gown, stepping into it with ease as I was still essentially in my underclothes, having come to Erik's lair in naught but my corset and stockings, chemise and robe. I laced up the back quickly, having had years of practise of dressing myself with haste for quick changes. I hemmed and hawed a bit, realising that I had no shoes besides my slippers. 

"Erik?" I called out softly, opening the curtain once more. I peered out into the main room, finding him once more at the piano. "Erik?" I asked once more, and he jolted slightly, turning to look at me. "I have only my slippers with me," I murmured, holding them up.

"Ah, I see." He rose from the bench, coming over to me and holding my chilled hands in his warm, gloved ones. I looked down at our hands, my slim fingers tugging off his gloves, hardly realising what I was doing until I was holding his gloves in my hand. "Christine," he breathed, and I looked up at him with wide eyes. 

"My... my hands are cold," I whispered, ducking my head once more. I heard a small chuckle, and Erik enclosed my hands into his.

"Shall we go back up to the opera house and get you some proper shoes, my dear?" he asked me gently, and I nodded, following him to the boat.

We reached the upper level fairly quickly, and I hummed as I followed Erik through the mirror, then began to go about the dressing room, finding a basket and placing various items inside of it: a few sentimental items, such as a dried rose from Madame Giry, a photograph of my father, and a few practical items as well, like my hair ribbons and new stockings, as the ones I had worn last night were full of holes from the rough stone floor of Erik's home. I sat on the vanity seat, slipping on a new pair of stockings, as well as a pair of shoes.

"Anything else you need, Christine?" Erik asked gently, and I looked around the dressing room once more. 

"Maybe just a few pairs of pointe shoes, and my blankets from the dormitory," I murmured, and Erik nodded, taking the basket from me gently and gesturing for me to lead the way. We made our way out into the main hall of the opera house, and I looked around warily, glad that there was no crowds--or Raoul--in sight. I heard the faint, rhythmic tapping of Madame Giry's cane coming from the stage, where she was undoubtedly running the ballet girls through rehearsal for the next opera. Monsieurs Firmin and André were nowhere to be seen, likely off spending hundreds of francs on whatever it was they wanted. I led Erik up to the dormitories, finding my bed and opening the chest at the foot of the bed. I placed my pairs of pointe shoes into the basket, as well as my blankets from the bed. I rose and sighed, a small amount of nostalgia creeping in at the fact that I would never be a simple ballet girl again. I was now a leading soprano, a star, and a prodigy of the phantom himself. My life was forever changed, and for a moment, I mourned the loss of simplicity.

"Christine?" I heard behind me, and turned to face Erik. He said nothing more as he gazed at me, likely seeing the sorrow in my eyes before he folded his arms around me in a hug, dropping the basket onto the bed. I sighed as I clung to him, allowing him to comfort me for a moment before pulling away and offering him a weak smile.

"Let's go home."

~~~

The next few weeks flew by, and soon, I had settled into a routine. I slept down in Erik's bed, though I always slept alone, despite my few attempts to get him to sleep as well. He insisted upon either staying up all night and quietly composing operas, or sleeping on a small chaise lounge, which didn't seem all that comfortable. At some point in the afternoon, I would make my way to the upper level, run through rehearsals, and then get ready for whatever opera we were performing that night. After the opera, I always had to deal with the crowds as best as I could, then disappear into my dressing room, allow my assistants to help me out of my costume--there was no reasoning with them of allowing me to do it myself--and then wait for them to go until I slipped back through the mirror and down to the lair, Erik always waiting for me at the staircase. There were new feelings budding between us, though I was too afraid to voice them to Erik. I was falling deeper and deeper in love with him every day, and I felt that these tremulous, fragile emotions would soon make themselves known.

I woke one morning to feather-light touches on my cheek. I tried to hold on to the dream of music and roses and lips pressed to mine. Sleep still had wispy tendrils around me, and they slowly dissipated until I opened my eyes, yawning and stretching languidly. I rolled onto my side, seeking where the feather touches had come from, and saw Erik lying there, dressed in his undershirt and pants, and... no mask. I looked at him with wide eyes, and he smiled at me, likely thinking my surprise was only at him being there, lying in bed. I reached my left hand up, cupping the side of his face. He leaned into the touch, his eyes closing... then snapping open as he felt my fingertips brushing over his scarred, disfigured face. He searched my gaze for disgust or contempt, but found only awe. 

"Christine..." he trailed off, and I heard the pain in his voice. "I-" he started, but was cut off by my lips pressing to his, my hands on both sides of his face now. He hesitated but for a moment before he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close, tears trailing down his cheeks at the feeling of being accepted, and being _loved_. We kissed for a long moment before he pulled away, his deep blue eyes gazing into my brown ones. "You're... you're not disgusted?" he asked, his voice breaking.

"No," I breathed as I looked up at him. I planted a gentle kiss to his disfigured cheek, then his forehead, then his lips. "I find you intriguing, and handsome, with or without the mask," I said seriously as I looked at him. "Your disfigurement may be appalling to some, but not to me."

"Christine," he choked, tears falling down his cheeks once more. I kissed them away tenderly, comforting him as he cried. I had felt only affection and intrigue towards him these past few weeks, always wanting to ask him what was behind the mask but respecting his privacy and secrets. Erik pulled me into a hug as I voiced that statement, nodding and whispering "thank you". I hugged him back just as tightly, my heart fluttering like a butterfly in my chest as he pulled away to look into my eyes, then pressed his lips to mine in a delicate yet strong, gentle yet passionate kiss. I trembled and kissed him back, wrapping my arms around him. Erik pulled away to look into my eyes once more. 

"My dear Christine..." he whispered, and I tilted my head slightly. "I love you," he murmured into my ear, and I teared up slightly as I clung to him.

"I love you too," I whispered, and we sealed our fate with a kiss. He held me close, and we laid there and cuddled and kissed every so often, the hours melting away until it was mid-afternoon. 

"My little songbird," Erik sang gently, rousing me out of the light sleep I had fallen into in his arms. "I do believe that you have an opera to get ready for tonight, my love."

"Erik," I grumbled sleepily, nuzzling into him. "Do I have to?" I teased, knowing I would get up and go to the upper level, as this life had become what I wanted. 

"Of course you do!" he laughed, and I giggled along with him. "Come on, for me?" he asked, pouting mockingly.

"Alright, if my angel says it must be so," I said dramatically, and we both fell into fits of giggles once more. We eventually sat up, Erik helping me out of bed and giving me some privacy to get dressed.

I came back out a few moments later, coming up to Erik and kissing his cheek gently. He smiled as he held me close, and I caught him looking around his lair. "Are you looking for this?" I asked, spotting his mask on the organ and handing it to him. He nodded sheepishly, and I offered a comforting smile as I slid the mask onto his face gently. "I understand, my angel. Your mask is much like my pointe shoes--a part of your identity, a security blanket. It helps you to feel confident, to feel like _yourself_. I will never fault you for feeling more comfortable with your mask on," I murmured as I gazed up at him, finishing my little speech with a gentle kiss on his lips. Erik kissed me back, murmuring "thank you" against my lips, then led me over to the boat.

We made our way to the upper level, Erik leaving me at the mirror with a deep kiss. I made my way into my dressing room, still a little lightheaded from the kiss, and began to get ready for the opera that night. I had finally convinced my assistants that I didn't need their help with much, just my hair and putting on my shoes, as the costumes were usually quite voluminous and extravagant. I hummed as I took off my day dress and pulled out the beautiful gown I was to wear for my performance that night, inspecting the bodice to ensure none of the pearls had fallen off and that everything was as it should be. I tugged the gown on and was lacing up the back when I heard someone clear their throat. I froze, my eyes darting to the corner near the door, and saw Raoul standing there.

"Raoul!" I cried out angrily, suddenly deeply embarrassed that he had seen me in my underthings, and in such a vulnerable state.

"Oh, don't stop on my behalf," he muttered darkly. I glared at him, taking a deep breath, preparing to scream until somebody heard, when Erik's voice boomed throughout the room.

"You damnable boy, deluded and blind, leave my poor girl be! Get out of this place, and don't return, or you shall not flee!" Erik belted out, the thinly-veiled threat sending shivers down my spine. 

"Who the hell was that, Christine? Come, you must leave now! Leave with me, I beg of you," Raoul begged, dropping to his knees in front of me.

"Why do you want me, Raoul?" I asked him angrily, having finally finished lacing up my gown.

"Because, Christine, you're gorgeous, and you would make a splendid wife! You were born into poverty, and I can rescue you!" Raoul explained quickly. 

"Raoul de Chagny," I growled at him, and he flinched at the use of his full name. "Do you truly believe I am merely a piece of art for you to admire? That I am not intelligent, or talented, or have my own thoughts or opinions? Do you believe that you can grovel at my feet and win me over?" I screamed at him, not caring who heard. "I was not born into poverty! I may not have been born into nobility like you, but I had a father who cared for me and taught me how to actually have a personality and not be a spineless coward who has everything handed to them on a silver platter like you! I do not love you, Raoul! I never loved you, and I never will! The infatuation of childhood has worn off! I am a woman who does not need to be rescued, do you understand? So if you value your title and social presence, you will leave this opera house and never return!" I finished, thrusting my arm out and pointing at the door, standing tall over Raoul.

"Christine, I-" he started, apologies and white lies ready at his lips.

"Go! Out! Now!" I screamed, and he finally realised that I was serious. Raoul took his leave, his head hanging low. Thankfully, the gentry and opera spectators had hardly begun to arrive. The only people who had heard my outburst were fellow cast members and stage hands, and this was nothing new to them. I shut the door firmly, collapsing onto my vanity seat. 

"My songbird," Erik murmured as he came up behind me, wrapping his arms around me in a sweet hug. "You truly know how to take a stand, hm?" he whispered, and I smiled weakly, looking at his reflection in the vanity mirror. "I shall leave you to get ready, my love. I'll be in box five, if you get nervous." He ghosted a kiss across my cheek and disappeared back through the mirror, likely to get ready himself.

The rest of the night went by in a daze. I performed the opera seamlessly, every note absolutely perfect as I sang. I made my way through the lobby after, accepting more roses than I could hold as I made my way to the dressing room. Madame Giry was standing before the door, and as I approached her, she offered me a smile. "I'll take care of the flowers and the crowd. He's waiting for you inside." I handed the roses to Madame Giry, a grateful smile on my face as I slipped into my dressing room, taking off my costume quickly and running through the mirror and straight into Erik's waiting arms.

"Come, Christine. You need to rest," he whispered as he scooped me up into his arms, carrying me through the hallways and down to the boat, setting me down carefully as he took us home, then picked me up again and carried me up to my bed-- _our_ bed--and laid me down gently, taking off everything but his pants and undershirt. He lay next to me, coddling me sweetly, kissing me to my heart's content. After a while of snuggles and playful kisses, the sleepiness began to settle in, and he began to sing a lullaby.

Slowly, Sleep opened Her arms to me, and I sank into them gratefully, drifting into dreams of Erik and I, of roses and rings, of candles and music, of a child who bore a striking resemblance to Erik. I tried to make sense of the dreams, but my mind was too far gone.


End file.
